80 Days
by ivanovriswidita
Summary: I have entered into the service of a new master. It would seem that this one is a gambling type. (A LoK story set in the 19th century steampunk era)
1. Chapter 1

80 Days

A/N: So this will be a LoK story set in the 80 Days (the Android games) universe. The story will be told from my OC's POV. Where, when, and how this story ends depend on YOU to decide. That's right! You my fellow reader will decide the flow of this story. So without further ado, hope you guys read it and leave a review or a criticize. I do not matter which as long as it will help me grow better as an author. And pardon my English. I'm an Indonesian and English isn't my first language.

* * *

I lay silently in my bed, counting how many times the airship groan and rattle through the air. A thought occur to me whether am I going to survive this unholy travel. Sure, the accommodation was _nice_ to put it mildly-the bedroom is sleep able with a single bed, a drawer, and a bathroom that is equipped with a sink and a bathtub. In addition, the food wasn't worldclass for the omelet is usually under salted and sometimes a bit overcooked for my _peculiar_ taste, but then again I never cook on a travelling airship so I cannot complain.

The airship once again rumbling as it hits an air turbulence-am I saying it correctly?-and I find my hands griping hard on the edge of the bed. It's a torture my friend. Can you imagine stuck in a Cross-Atlantic airship line connecting New York and London in a three days travel? The brochure never said anything about this rumbling ramshackle known as The Liberty. When I arrived in the airfield just a walking distance from Hudson River, my heart stopped as I saw my soon-to-be carriage to London. The hull of the airship looks like it's been on military service throughout its live, what with a couple of dents, and a _bullethole?!_ I blinked a few times and I surprised that I'm not imagining. It is a bullethole not quite large, _but it is still there_. I'm about to complained but after a second thought, this is the only mean of travel to London, and I already paid the ticket-as the brochure kindly said ' _No refund under any circumstances_ '. I hope that 'death' is count as _circumstances_. Therefore, with a slight hesitation I climbed aboard, while muttering Hail Mary under my breath.

Another rumble disturbs my head from replaying the last two days memory. This time, I'm sure that my stomach takes a flip and I feel my breakfast is about to come out through my mouth. I quickly get up from my bed and run to the bathroom. I locate the sink and I'm standing there, waiting for my vomit. Thankfully it didn't, so I just stand still in front of the sink. I loosened my grip on the edge of the sink a bit, as I lift my head and stare at the mirror. I look green. Greener if that possible, as I'm suffering the same condition in the last two days. I study my own reflection, noticing how my slightly tan face sporting a few cut here and there. I run my right hand to the right corner of my lips, where a horizontal cut still left a mark that is visible if someone stands close enough. Then I trace my jaw, realizing that I just shaved yesterday. My short hair is still as perfect as it can be-a thing that my years serving the Army carried until now. Suddenly as the word 'Army' appear in my brain; I see a flash of images. Horrible one, an image that I thought would have gone after the war ends. A few images flash again, hurting my head more than my airsickness. My hands reach my throbbing head, holding it until I'm sure that the pain is gone. After it stops, I notice my heart was beating rapidly. I take a few calming breath just like my usual post-war traumatic routines. When I'm able to control my heartbeat I begin to walk out of the bathroom and grab my coat from the drawer. I'm going to die if I keep staying in that room. I need a fresh air, and a lunch.

* * *

The dining area is always full during lunchtime. Passengers are mainly consist of well dressed businessman, or a newlywed couple deciding to visit England, or just some scholar that want to study at the finest of all the finest university-Oxford and Cambridge. You can see a lot of color in this area, a mix of culture and ethnicity. I see a family of dark skinned American chatting and talking, and I actually smiling for the first time since I set foot in this airship. How does it feel, when the thing you're fighting for, with blood, tears, and sweats, are worth it? For all my time I spent fighting the rights for minority the sight in front of me is a reward itself, one that will always be treasured deep in my heart.

I enjoy this place. Unlike the other area that made from metal, most of this place built from wood and it gives you the feeling of home-y. All the mahogany tables are covered with white fabric with intricate details and a vase in the middle of the table. The entire table scattered throughout the floor, surrounded by window that overlook the blue Atlantic Ocean. This place is actually one of my favorite places in this airship-of course, when it's not groaning or rumbling as an additional view of the ocean isn't exactly ease your fear. I spot an empty table closest to the window and make my way there. I settle myself there, while a waiter comes to my table offering a glass of water, which I take wholeheartedly, hoping that a glass of clear water might help my airsickness. I take a sip from my glass and stare the vast ocean underneath the clear blue sky. Funny that my life take a turn like this. How I never think to leave the safety of my home in New York to embrace the foreign land of London. A place of innovation I heard, one that brim with sort of gentlemen and gentlewomen and all the upper class, while also hold its own darkest part. Apparently, poverty and the general crime rate are pretty high in London, what with the Poverty Law and the ever abundant of slum area in there. Some even claimed that the prisons in London are crammed up with criminal. Ah, such pity to be the capital of the greatest empire in the world that rotting from the inside.

I wonder how am I going to survive there, when another air turbulence hits the airship. I do not need to think twice-I grip the edge of my table as hard as I could. The other passenger seems to feel the turbulance too, as I can hear some gasp or yell from a number of tables.

When is this going to end? I will never know. Supposedly if the timetables are accurate-which at this point I begin to doubt-then we should arrive to London tomorrow morning. I stare at the ocean once again, definitely not thinking of how high we are, or how deep is that water.

Just as I about to curse my decision on choosing _this_ airship, I hear someone dragging a chair on the other side of my table. A rude gesture as I intentionally picked the furthest table so that no one can disturb me. But then again maybe this person also has the same idea as me. I divert my gaze to the fellow in front of me, and I find myself studying her figure. The fellow isn't a guy, but a lady perhaps four years younger than me. I can't see her face since she is reading a book. I focus my sight to the book title, "The Spirit of the Law" by Montesquieu. A serious book for a young lady like her. I continue my observation, watching her toned arms-perhaps bigger than mine-seems bulging out of her blue unbuttoned overcoat. I can see her hand that holding the book, the dark color of her hand that looks like some Native American. Her brown, short hairs that stop just above her strong jaw, really makes her look intimidating. This lady must be-as I deduced-a strong girl, spending her time working in a field or a wood. And that arms, how I wish I have an arm like that.

It seem that she can feel my intense gaze piercing through her book, as she suddenly drop her book and her eyes meet mine. Now I can see her face, the tan color of her hand accentuate her face, with a blue eyes as blue as the morning sky in a warm summer. She is definitely not American nor is she an African-her skin having a unique shade of chocolate that put her as a Native American.

"Oh I'm so sorry! I didn't notice that this table is occupied. I mean there are a couple of tables that _might_ be empty, but this place is close to the window and I kind of like the view of the ocean, and as you can see I'm reading a book here so I can't…"

I have to stop her rambling and her further attempt to embarrass herself, "No you don't have to apologize."

She still looks flustered as the pink not leaving her cheek, "I'm really sorry you had to hear my rambling. I mean, of course, my parents always told me about that and how that going to affect my social skill. Which at first I denied for it doesn't make any sense _at all_. Sure there is times where people looking at me like I'm sick or something, or the times where I go rambling when I mistook a bag of potato with my laundry and my mom found it out and I had to explain her because…"

I can't hold my laughter anymore. She sure is _tough_ as her exterior.

"Did I just tell you not to apologize?"

She still avoids my looks, as she trying to control herself. I have to make her feels better. "Look, I've seen worse ma'am. And I'm proud to tell you that you are normal."

She then looks at me with a playful grin, "Being so formal to a stranger now?"

"Nope. That's how we address female in Texas." She has an air of confident, even though she had just rambling like a maniac a few minutes earlier.

"So you're a Southerner?"

"Not really," I said, knowing where this conversation might end up, "I born in Texas but I grew up in New York."

She releases her breath, "Phew, for a second there I thought you're an ex-Confederate."

I chuckled slightly, "Do I _really_ look like a Confederate?"

She held her chin, deep in thought, "Let's see… You definitely have the attitude, and the way you dress up is kind of a giveaway…"

"You did not just commenting my style of dress."

She has that smirk on her face, "Sure am."

"For my own defense, this coat is what Parisian called _très_ _chic_. It's the very definition of modern gentleman-one that arguably respect fashion."

She then laugh, and I find myself laughing too. I'm actually having a nice conversation with this stranger. Stuck up in this dreaded airship really makes you miss an actual social interaction with another human-one that understand jokes.

"Catherina" she said while extending her hand. I take it and very surprised by her strong grip.

"Surely I cannot call you with you first name, that would be rude."

"You really are difficult you know."

I smile at her word, "Stuck in this deathtrap makes any sane man changed ma'am." An air turbulence hits the airship for God know how much, and by instinct I grip the edge of the table. It appears that my action didn't go unnoticed by Catherina, as I hear a laughter escaping her lips.

"Let me rephrase my word. You really are difficult _and_ a pussycat."

I know she was just joking, but I find her word insulting, but I too distracted to actually care, "Even a gentleman like me has something to fear, ma'am." I said, "To think we are this high with layers of metal that separate us from death bellow is not make this trip enjoyable to me."

Her eyes are suddenly lost it playfulness, as concern suddenly replace it "But are you alright? I'm sorry if my joke hurts you're feeling. I should've known my limit."

I face her and flash her my-hopefully convincing-reassurance smile, "You don't have to. It's just I never travel this far using an airship."

Convinced by my look, she continues our conversation, "Seriously? Back home, I used to ride a unique airship that resembles a huge bird. My family always used it to travel between farms…"

I watch her talking animatedly, how her hand actively moving with each word as she's trying to describe her experience as best as she could. I find myself zoning out watching her enthusiasm lift my spirit once more.

"… that my house in Oklahoma-"

I snap out of my trance, "Oklahoma you say?"

She stop mid sentence, looking at me confused, "Yeah, that's where I came from. Why?"

My head connect all the dots. All information I gather just by observing her earlier suddenly make sense. With a smile I extend my own hand, "Please allow me to introduce myself", she then grabs my hand still with that confused look.

"My name is Jack Rusco. But please call me Jack."

"Um, sure thing Jack" she say with a friendly smile.

"So what's your name?"

She looks even more confused with my question, "It's Catherina… How can you-"

"Forget it? I'm asking your _real_ name."

It takes a few second before she understand what I'm implying. Her eyes grow wide with fear, as if I'm saying that I'm going to kill her.

"How… do you…?"

"Lucky guess. One that I'm sure spot on this time."

She still looks bewildered with my revelation. Her face turns red as she focus her gaze down to her shoes, trying her best not to look me in the eye.

"It's… Korra…"

* * *

What do you think? The original chapter is too huge so I have to split it into two parts. So yeah, it's just some opening chapter letting you know a bit about my OC. The adventure isn't starting… yet, but as I said before you reader have control on how this story will played out. How do you do that? Well, I'm gonna explain it after we arrive in London, and that's about two more chapter worth of waiting. That means the progress of this story really depends on you, so please drop your review. At least I know if I should continue this story or not. Anyway, thank you for reading and see you next time.


	2. Chapter 2

80 Days

A/N: So sorry for the long update. Me and my laptop had this beef and since he got the upper hand, he was like 'I know! How about I delete his second chapter to make him pay for what he did to me!" And he did! I had to rewrite this entire chapter. Sucks but hey, he's my laptop. Nothing I can do about it.

So yeah sorry again for this long update. Hopefully my laptop won't plan another mutiny, and I can update regularly. Anyway, hope anyone read it!

* * *

Perhaps I've been too forward? Nevertheless I put my hand on top of hers, doing it very carefully as I don't know how will she react at my statement. As my hand connect hers, she finally muster enough strength to meet my eyes, fear and anxiety lingering there as I tried my best not to look too demanding or pushing her limit.

"You do not have to be ashamed of who you really are, Miss Korra." I say that word delicately, something that I've never done for a long time, "Our past are what makes us unique, what makes us complete as a human being. You have a special blood running in your vein, the blood of the fearless Cherokee warrior."

She curves her lips to a smile, and I see that as a signal to continue, "You supposed to be proud of your history. Heck, I cannot recount how many tales of Indian fighter that my drill sergeant used to inspire our company. How they have the will and sheer determination to protect their home, their ancestor land." I chuckle as I find myself reminiscing my times as a soldier, "Of course I can't compare myself to them."

Her eyes suddenly lit up as I finish my speech. The pink still linger in her cheek although it's quite hard to tell with her dark skin.

"But…" she looks me in the eye once more, "How did you know that I'm a Cherokee?"

At the mention of that, I reach for my coat pocket and pull out a memento from my times serving the Union army. It is a simple beaded necklace that is made with insane amount of detail. Each bead is carved with small pictures of cougar, bear, owl, and an eagle. All of the beads are hand woven into a necklace.

"Back in my regiment, I had a friend. I called him Hayes and he's a Cherokee himself, and one hell of a soldier he is. We became friends over the course of the war, and we used to have this very strong bond."

I relax into my seat as I reminiscing my times in the army, "We're like brother, always had each other back. I don't know when exactly but he had this idea to made me a necklace as a token of our friendship. Every night in our camp, he spent his time making this necklace, he said that it also help him when he is missing home. And I do know how he regard his heritage so when I received the necklace, I felt honored at the gesture. At that point we are _danitaga_ , always there to help each other. We are inseperatable no matter how impossible the condition it is". I take a deep breath after I finish my sentence, "So yeah, I kind of having this strong bond with Native American, especially those of Cherokee ancestry."

As I look over to her, she stares me deeply with eyes that full of curiosity. She's not moving an inch from where she is sitting, eager to listen my story, "So what happen?"

Oh right, I need to finish the story. I know what happen next, and I cannot maintain the same light tone I use to tell the story, "Then… it happened."

At this point my head is torturing me with flashes of horrid image, but I have to continue somehow, "It was in the middle of the night. The whole camp was dead asleep after a round of drinking and dancing and singing. I did not participate, deciding to head straight to my tent and catch some much needed sleep. I was so deep in my sleep, until I heard the sound I dreaded the most. It so faint, and as such I didn't take it seriously. But what follows after that, is what woke me up. A huge explosion just a few meters away from my tent startle me, and at that point I knew we were in trouble. I grabbed my rifle and wear my uniform as fast as I could, and went outside."

I stop, not because I want to end my story but to prepare what happen next in the story, "The whole camp was in chaos. We were ambushed by a combined arm of bushwhacker and the Confederate. None of us could prepare anything; half of the soldiers are just too drunk to even lift a rifle. We were sitting duck and the enemy took advantage of that. Bullets flying from all direction, often followed by a body drop dead, and fire burned around the camp. Dead bodies both Union and Confederate littered the ground where I stood, and if it were not for the fighting around me, I would have fainted just from the smell of the battlefield. It was Hell, except darker with smoke blocking my view. I found Hayes shooting at the Confederate behind a cover made of wooden crate. I quickly joined him, shooting at anything that move and shoot us. It didn't matter if I shot the wrong guy, our survival instinct override any thought that appeared."

Suddenly I find myself staring at the ocean again. The slow movement of the waves manages to calms me down, "We shot so many men that I lost count of it. My concerns are the fact that we only carried small amount of ammunition to survive the whole battle, and Hayes share the same thought. He ordered me to grab additional ammo from his tent across the camp, and of course I object it. Not because I'm afraid that I would die in the process, I'm afraid that when I left I would lost my _danitaga_. He flashed me a smile trying to look strong in front of me, but I know deep down he's as scared as I do. But in the face of death I found peace, and with final shook of hand I dashed across the smoke-filled field. The smell of gunpowder was so strong that even if you held your breath, the scent could still found a way to your nose. Screams of pain and agony haunting my ears, and right now I could still hear it lullabying me to sleep. I tried to navigate myself around the battlefield without making any noise, and it was hard what with the smoke blocking the view. I reached this opening where the sounds of gunshots were the loudest, and as crawled I found my sergeant laying still with eyes devoid from life. His abdomen was torn open and I can saw his intestine swimming in a pool of blood. I wish I could stop and grief upon his dead, but I knew that Hayes and I could share the same fate as he does. I just need to find the ammunition and run as far as possible from this nightmare. Long story short, I reached Hayes' tent and found his ammunition. Again I dashed to Hayes, while carefully avoiding confrontation with the Confederate army. "

The pain in my head is getting stronger with each word that comes out of my mouth. It feels like a huge needle is piercing from the back of my skull all the way to the front. But I can't stop my own mouth from continuing the story.

"I found Hayes, leaning in one of the wooden crate soaked up in blood. I checked his condition, praying that life hadn't left him yet. But I was too late… he had a bullet pierce his right eye and two more nesting in his torso. His face… blank from any expression. I drop to my knees, letting out all my anger to the sky above me, to the earth bellow. No tears shed that night… even though I just lost someone I cared the most. There is only anger, and hatred. To the war… to the soul that gone in the process… to the family divided amongst this warring nation. Why am I fighting this war? No one will remember my name or Hayes name when we die. No one will look upon our grave and say 'here die the men that shape our history'. We are nothing but bones lying underneath this earth". My fist balled up from holding my anger and pain. I feel like I'm about to explode, the painful memory is sometimes too much for me to handle.

"I was the sole survivor of the ambush. I wandered around looking for nearby settlements, or at least a place for me to make a report. I couldn't give Hayes a proper burial, too tired to even do anything other than get as far away as possible from that hellhole. When the sun rose above the destroyed camp, and after the smoke cleared, I knew that I will never be the same person."

Then silence fall upon our table. It is not the awkward kind of silence, just… a silence. Guilt washed upon me as I look Korra face. She has this frown not from disgust, but of pity. I feel her hand reaching my balled up fist, and with her thumb, she make a circling motion there. That gesture alone successfully relaxing me, and I feel my tense muscle loosened a bit.

We stay like that for another minute. I am staring outside when I hear a very faint, "I'm… really sorry to hear that."

She has this very small smile on her face, and I find myself smiling. Her smile that radiates happiness to anyone seeing it, a smile that infect people around her, and right now even just as an acquaintance, I make a promise to always make her smile.

"You know what?" I retract my hand and clasp it together, "Enough of this old sad story!"

She looks shocked by my action, and perhaps I'm a bit overacting, but I can't stand the tension. Therefore, with the most gentleman voice I can muster, I raise my glass of water, "I, Jack Rusco, will formally invite you, Miss Korra, as my lunch partner. I might sound too rude for being this forward, but you're company are much needed and if there's anything from this cursed airship that I'm enjoying, is you sitting in this table with me."

She blushed at my word and that's exactly the response that I need, "So, may I have the honor?"

Laughter escapes her mouth and it the most genuine laugh I've ever heard. It's like the sound of thousands of bell ringing in unison, "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

I call the waiter. He come and gives us the menu that mostly consists of fish. I glance at Korra who bite her lower lip and her index finger hovering above the menu as she picks her dish. Then she looks up from reading the menu and stares at my eyes, as if she is waiting for me to choose first.

"You do not need to wait for me, pick anything you like. All on me."

"No, I can pa-"

"Nonsense! I almost ruin your day with my story. Allow me to make it up for you by paying this lunch."

She looks unsure, but I believe she don't want to press further. She looks at the menu again and says to the waiter, "I'll take the salmon fillet then."

"Make that two, please."

The waiter nods and leaves our table. A couple of minutes later another waiter come, this time offering Korra a glass of water. After the glass is full, she takes a quick sip from her glass.

"So…" she rests her elbow on the table, "Tell me… what brings you to London?"

"Oh, it's actually quite a long story. Perhaps it would be better to say that I received a letter a week ago from my soon-to-be master with his address in London. I hope that my master is an easy one this time. My last one was… shall I say a 'basket case' kind of person."

I shiver just by remembering the old days when I was nothing but a fresh valet experiencing the harsh world of gentleman. Who could have thought that would get a master like _that_ to be my first master. Not me. Hopefully my times serving my old master will qualify me as adequate enough to serve an English gentleman.

Korra then give me this weird look, like the one a curious scientist would give to its specimen, "A… master you say?"

I stop drinking to answer Korra's question, "Ah, pardon me. I believe that I forget to tell you that I'm a valet."

She just stares me. There is no better way to describe her right now. Confusion etched in her face is clear as the afternoon sky, and I believe I know just why.

"You do know what a valet is, right?"

She just shakes her head. Well it is not so surprising –perhaps the concept of personal service is foreign back in her community.

"Well…" I put my glass down and clasp my hand, "… a valet is a person that attends their master. We do our best to satisfy our master personal need. As our motto would say 'the satisfaction of personal need is our deed'."

Korra then tap her chin, deep in thought, "So… you attend your master?"

"Yes I am" I grab my glass and take a good swig. Now Korra might have a bit insight about our j-

"Is that makes you a… servant… or slave?" she says in a hushed tone. I confess I almost spit out all of the water inside my mouth –if not for my good self-restraint I might cause a scene here. Instead, I choke my throat, and it takes a few cough and chest pounding to direct the water to it right path. Korra not oblivious with my struggle stands up from her chair to help me. Or at least try to –I held up a hand as a sign to stop, still in my coughing fit.

"Ma'am…" a few cough manage to escape my mouth, "… you cannot compare a valet with… _them_."

"We are above that! We are…" I pause to give a dramatic effect, before saying the sentence with such finality, "… a gentleman's gentleman."

I believe that I succeed at making Korra even more confused. Her face scrunched up in a way that looks like either she is trying to process my word or coming up with another question.

"A gentleman's gentleman?"

I nod. What else could I say? I grab my glass once again and drink its content. It sure is exhausting to explain the very basic concept of valet-ing, especially to someone like Korra.

"Why is there a gentleman's gentleman?"

"Because there is a gentleman" I say matter-of-factly. I cannot blame her though –the concept of valeting is really complex to be understood in a matter of second.

"Then how come you are a gentleman's gentleman?"

God this is going to be long, "Well because I serve my master; a gentleman. Therefore I am a gentleman's gentleman."

She stays silent, but knowing her level of curiosity –a genuine kind of curiosity─ there's bound to come another question.

"So your master is a gentleman?" She narrow her eyes while and of her hand tapping her chin, "Is he also a gentleman's gentleman?"

"Of course not. Then he would not be a gentleman" I answer while adding that, "Only a gentleman may have a gentleman's gentleman."

"But are you… a gentleman? You said you were, after all, a 'gentleman's gentleman'."

"Indeed, but I am not a gentleman, I am just a gentleman's gentleman."

Korra once again give me her what-are-you-talking-about look. A look that at this point, I familiar with. She keep giving me the look, and I believe she actually wait for me to elaborate.

"There are gentleman and gentleman," I explain tactfully and carefully as I try my best to avoid any confusion, "I am a gentleman, but fear I can't call myself a true gentleman. And because I am not a true gentleman, I am technically a gentleman's gentleman. Therefore as a gentleman's gentleman, I cannot employ a gentleman's gentleman of my own, for that is the privilege of a true gentleman."

Suddenly Korra's eyes lit up as if she just received a revelation, "Ah, then you really are a gentleman's gentleman!"

I smile full of pride at that word, "Indeed so."

Then we continue to wait for our lunch. There is no sound in our table, beside the occasional drumming sounds of my finger on the table. Then it dawns me that I haven't ask Korra her reason going to London.

"How about you?"

She looks up, and her blue eyes shot me a questioning look.

"I mean no disrespect but… what a young lady like you doing in an airship heading to London –alone, may I add?"

She smiles at my question. "Well… actually, I wasn't going to London. My destination is Cambridge."

"As in the University of Cambridge?"

She nods, "Yeah. I'm going to study law there."

I raise my eyebrow. Then it would explain the book currently lying next to her plate, "An interesting choice. May I ask you why?"

It takes only a mere second for Korra to change the smile in her lips into a frown. It might be quick, but my trained eye still sees it nonetheless, and concern flood me. Am I saying something wrong? An apology is about to come out from my mouth, before she speaks up.

" _Nu na da ul tsun yi_."

Korra said it so softly –it's barely audible. I'm quite sure I've heard that word somewhere, but I can't put my finger at where exactly.

"You do know what happened to the Cherokee before me, right?"

And then it hits me. Of course I heard that word, Hayes once told me. I know all of the story from Hayes, the story of how the Cherokee forced to relocate from their land. Korra eyes never leave mine, as if waiting for my response.

I nod, "Yes, Hayes once told me about that."

Korra release a loud sigh. Her gaze is now directed at the ocean outside, watching the slow movement of the wave.

"Some of the adults in my tribe were a survivor of the relocation. They sworn to never told the younger generation about the relocation since they feared that it might cause hatred to the white people."

I don't like where this is going. But apparently my mouth betray my brain, and I suddenly blurt out, "So… do you… really hates the white people?"

It sounds stupid. I'm playing in a rough water here, and I hope I didn't add fuel to the already burning fire. I'm about to apologize, until she snap her look from the window. Now she's gazing at me dead in the eyes, and for all dignity left in me –I flinch in my seat. God know how long I've been shooting people and of course that means I had to look said people in the eye. I've saw many expressions in my opponent eyes, but the one Korra gives to me, it is another story. I can't specifically read what those blue eyes are saying –I see anger, agony, hatred, regret, and sorrow all at the same time.

"Yes."

* * *

Phew, so that was chapter two. Stay tunes for the next chapter! And if any of you (that is of course, if there is anyone reading this story) wondering if there's a trip around the world in just 80 days in this story? Well duh, the title is quite obvious guys. I'm using the universe from the "80 Days" game (you should play that game!) with a few character from the LoK series thrown in this story as you travel around the world. They might help you progress, or not. I have to stop here, lest I give a spoiler of my own story.

Keep on reading and reviewing guys!


	3. Chapter 3

80 Days

A/N: This is the third chapter folks! And I would like to thank to whomever that read this story. Also the adventure isn't starting yet, but at least there will be another character from the series introduced here… I think. Anyway, happy reading guys

* * *

All color must've been drained from my face. There is no way that I can describe how I react to Korra's statement. That answer alone could've mean a lot of things. I mean, all along I've been talking to her, and she might have despise me. Was all the laughter before… all the moment that I thought were a genuine one… was just her being polite to a stranger? A stranger that, perhaps, his great-grandparents involved in the massacre of Cherokee people. The idea alone is sickening me, to the point that my stomach is lurching at the mere image of thousand of white-skinned militias dragging the native from their home and torturing them… In fact, I'm going to stop thinking that, because I'm sure that Korra can see the look in my face when I'm in my train of thought.

"You look shocked."

To be honest I am more a combination of shock and nervous. You see, for me ladies in particular are a complicate creature. Sometimes they can be quite open about what they are feeling. Other times… they're not. The key to have conversation with a lady is to know what's on their mind. Apparently, Korra isn't making it easier, what with her emotionless expression plastered on her face. I can't read what's on her mind and that alone makes me nervous.

Or perhaps it's because my talent of being awkward in front of a lady. Seriously, it's a miracle right now that I manage to strike a conversation without stuttering a single word. Either way, what I said before was stupid, and I won't blame it on my natural awkwardness. I hope I won't repeat the same mistake again.

Before I know it, Korra once again has her focus on the window staring long to the horizon. "It all started when Katara, the eldest member of our group, told us the story of ' _nu na da ul tsun yi_ ' ─the place where they cry. I didn't understand until she finished her story, and suddenly it all sort of makes sense. Now I know why there were so few of us living in the group, or why some of us had this look when they saw a white people ─a look of _pure_ hatred. And I have to admit I too share the same hatred to the pale skinned, blood-sucking leech that sucked up all life on this very earth."

Well this is getting more and more uncomfortable. But what can I do? I just can't trust my mouth at this moment. The tension is so thick that I can smell it in the air, and all I can do is just glancing around nervously trying to change the subject of this conversation.

A chuckle from Korra catches my attention. "It kind of stupid when I think about it. I was just a little girl that hates everyone who wasn't a Cherokee. All that came up on my brain was how to punish everyone for what they've done to us. I want them to suffer the same pain my parents suffered; I want them to feel it _so_ bad. But in the end… no matter how much I wanted it… it felt… _wrong_. It was already bad that my people went through such torment. I wanted to protect my people in the least harmful way so that no more massacres like that ever happen again."

There's a pause, then a silence follows. Neither of us says anything; I'm drumming my fingers on the table while she's still looking out the window. It is a bit less intense now and while I'm not the most pious man out there, I pray to God up there that I won't screw things up _again_. "And that's why you studied law?"

This time though God is on my side, as she perked up at my question. Finally, I manage to pry her attention away from the window. I can see a smile forming on her lips, a good sign so far. "Exactly. I'm sure that it always been my dream ever since I was a kid. I always wanted to bring peace to every people in America; you know equality and stuff. It's just… sometimes I doubted my decision on boarding this airship."

"Why would you doubt your decision? You have a once in a lifetime opportunity to study in _the_ most famous university in the world. What else bothering your mind?"

She scratches the back of her neck and ducks her head low. Apparently, that's her gesture when she's nervous. I should take note of that. "N-no… well… you know how they treat me back home? What if… what if they would treat me like that too in Cambridge? I don't want people treats me different just because I'm not one of 'them'."

"A gentleman is a gentleman from the way he acts like gentleman, not from his appearance," I say indifferently. "I believe the same thing applies to woman."

To be honest, I don't know a thing or two about being a gentleman. Hell, I don't even qualify as one, so I'm just saying an empty fact there. At least I manage to turn Korra's frown upside down, and for me that's a good job done.

And suddenly, as an answer to my prayer, a waiter comes with our order. It occurs to me that it's been an hour since we ordered the food, and when they serve it I can see a bit of the salmon still undercooked. Amateur.

Either way, I guess Korra doesn't mind the wait at all. She eats her salmon in a silence without sparing me a glance. Is she trying to act nonchalant? As if the conversation we had earlier never happened? Well I guess if she asks for it, who am I to say no? So I act like nothing ever happen and eats my undercooked salmon. There is this silence again, although this time I'm not going to say it is an awkward silence, but rather a peaceful ones amidst the sound of our cutlery moving across the plate, and the sound from many people eating here.

* * *

It's been nine hours since the sun is setting on the horizon. Our captain decided to lower the altitude of the airship since us getting closer to our destination. Most people were already in bed preparing for tomorrow, or some just lounging in the bar. But I feel restless. The night sky is just too beautiful that it is a sin not to watch it. If the night sky is a concert, then the moon must be the conductor. Its ethereal glow orchestrating a symphony of stars, while the ocean's mirror-like surface reflecting the light show above. I suddenly feel romantic just watching the sky, and perhaps I could write a poem for my artistic skill ─if such thing exist, anyway─ haven't been polished for a while. I contend of just watching it, for not a word can describe the majestic view in front of me.

"You should be in bed."

I recognize that voice, although it's a bit slurred by sleepiness, "You _should_ be in bed."

I keep looking to the ocean, while a sound of footstep walking slowly towards me. Then a figure is leaning with its back to the railing.

"Aren't it a bit cold for you, Korra?" I ask to the figure besides me. She still wears the same garment that she wore this afternoon ─a bit unusual for this cold air.

"Nah, I used to it." she answer nonchalantly, "I've been through a much colder situation than this."

I open my mouth to form an answer, but no word comes out. I really couldn't blame her, especially after what happened this afternoon. After our awkward lunch, Korra just excused herself in haste and left our table. I'm about to stopped her but, well let's just say that I should have did. And right now here we are, in a situation where I wish that I have the ability to just fly myself away from this God forsaken airship. Or perhaps the ability to breath underwater. I mean the ocean down there must not be that bad right? It's just the water is _so_ inviting. Either way I need to be as far as possible from Korra, maybe just for this night. Then after we land, I could apologize to her and forget anything ever happened between us. Sounds like a plan, Jack.

"Look─"

"I'm sorry Jack."

Well that's unpredicted. I have to be honest that I'm taken aback that my brain haphazardly thinking back for a comprehensive response. Instead, I just raise my eyebrow and say, "For what?"

"For being me back then. The young, stupid, naïve Korra. I'm sorry that I acted on impulse and left the table without explaining myself. It's just… the topic about my people is too sensitive for me, and your question opens up a wound from the past that I tried to heal _so_ hard."

I finally gather enough courage to see her face ─instead of jumping from the railing─ and watch her face illuminated by the moonlight. I can see her expression very clearly, like watching a youth version of myself. Seeing Korra is like me watching a mirror, and I staring deeply at myself. We both ruined by our own past ─her dealing with her childhood and me dealing with the war─ but we manage to build a wall of façade that hid us well. I know how hard it is to maintain that wall, and so share the same feeling when I destroy hers.

"You never meant to hurt my feeling. You just being curious and I kind of overreacting. I'm sorry for treating you wrong."

"Well I guess in that case, I owe you an apology. I should have never asked about your life, and I'm sorry to did that. So… sorry?" I offer weakly while stretching my hand for her to accept.

She looks at my outstretched hand for a moment, before accepting it with her iron-like grip, "Apology accepted."

Contend with that, I continue gazing the sky. Out there in the horizon is a strange world, one that I will set my foot on.

"I always prefer the night over the day."

I look over to Korra, "And why is that?"

She staring the sky with a smile, clearly in a dream state. I'm waiting patiently for her response.

"I don't know. I just… attracted to its beauty. It might have something to do with a story I heard when I was a kid."

"What story?"

She breathes deeply, and I realize that this one will not be over quick, "My people believe that way back then there was once a time when the moon is dying and slowly losing its light. At one point, the light was gone and the natural day and night cycle was in jeopardy. Every corner of the earth was on chaos, people started blaming each other as a responsible party for angering the Spirits that control the balance in this world. So, in the next hundred years, war rages the earth. For every blood spilled, the Spirits got angrier and angrier. One princess from a warring tribe saw this. She's understand that this is not the way the Spirits wanted. But her people had been blinded and cannot see the truth. Therefore, she's planning to restore the balance herself ─and quite literally."

I'm awestruck by the power of Korra's story and cannot resist the temptation to ask a question, "And what did the princess do?"

"She planned to sacrifice herself ─to be the moon. Her parents were against it and so locked her in her house. But the princess' heart was too firm for a mere human to restrain. She escaped her parents and went to the cliff, where she prayed to the Spirits to accept her soul. The Spirits saw that her soul is of the pure one and accepted it. Of course, there's a catch in that; in order to replace the moon she must sacrifice her soul _and_ her body. Still, thanks to her act of sacrifice, the moon gains its power back and became alive again, bringing balance and peace to the world."

"So… the princess was dead?"

"Not dead, Jack. She's still alive every time the sun is gone and the moon come. She watches over the sailors that travel the ocean at night, guide the living creature beneath the sea, control the tides and the winds, and lullaby us to sleep. She protects us from the day's heat and together with the sun, brings balance to the earth."

I know very well that that story is just legend or a myth, but when Korra tells it, the story feel like it actually happened. "Do you believe a story like that?"

She sighs, a long one. Her eyes still fixed to the moon not once leaving it. "Not really. But the meaning of the story that intrigues me. It shows that people will go an extreme length to sacrifice for a thing they believe, even though their life is at stake."

The gleams in her eyes as she look to the moon, make you wonder if she can actually talk to it and she's basically retelling the story told by the princess itself.

"And you want to be just like the moon." I say to her. "The one that sacrifices and protects; that sounds exactly like you."

She blush a crimson red, though it quite difficult to see with limited light. "I want to be the princess in that story. It's actually what inspire me to study law all the way in Cambridge; I want to sacrifice for my own people. Especially in my tribe, my dad is the chief and that make me technically a princess so it's more of a duty for me."

I point my finger to the moon, "I'm sure you will be brighter than that moon up there."

She raises her eyebrow in a skeptical manner, "Really now?"

I smile and nod. "And in the future I will your name in a newspaper headline 'Korra wins another case for the Indians!' with your picture on it."

Korra laugh wholeheartedly and punch my shoulder playfully. Suddenly it feels natural again to talk like this, to laugh like this with Korra. I can't help myself to not laughing together, earning a few glances from other people in the deck. But do I care? I say _phooey_ for them! _Phooey_!

After our laughing fit turns to a giggle, we watch the night sky together. Neither of us makes any sound because, I think, there's no need of it. Now we're just contend with this silence. After a while, I can hear Korra stifling a yawn ─although she quite fails in that.

"You should go to bed."

Korra rub her eyes trying her best to suppress the tiredness in it, but after a few attempts to stifle her yawn, I can hear sighing a dejected tone, "Guess I can't fight it."

"No one told you to." I speak calmly to Korra, "You can't do anything the way you want it, and you'll soon learn that."

I can't shake the strange feeling Korra's stare gives to me. I don't know if she offended or not, but she only smiles at it. "You're right on that one."

Her tone betrays her expression but I make no comment on it, instead I just watch her shuffling away with a heavy step clearly exhausted. She stops at the doorway and glance back at me with her usual smile.

"See you tomorrow Jack!"

"I look forward for that."

A moment after that Korra leave, leaving me alone in the cold Atlantic night surrounded by the sky above me. It takes me awhile before I realize that I'm the only person in the balcony. I guess I should be going to bed soon but I'm not tired yet. Or perhaps I'm too afraid to sleep, afraid for what waits me across this ocean.


	4. Chapter 4

80 Days

A/N: Holy cow! It's been awhile since I upload a new chapter on this story. But fear not faithful readers! I will not neglect this story at all. I just have to deal with my super tight, final year schedule and I'm gonna do as best as I can to update this story. Still until I graduate from high school, irregular update it is.

Don't forget to leave a review for me! I know I'm not the best writer even in my native language so I accept any critique or comment you give to me! After all, how can I be a better writer if I don't know how my reader thinks about.

* * *

Despite all the accommodation this airship provide ─being an Ottoman Geyik-class airship imported straight from Persia─ its food certainly fails me. I can handle an overcooked omelet, or an undercooked salmon fillet, but to ruin a supposedly simple dish such as a _potage_ ─that's definitely push my limit. Just… why? I'm not a critique, yes, but at least put some effort on this one. The soup is more of a potato broth than a thick, creamy, _puréed_ soup. Looking at a bowl of _it_ makes me cringe. I believe this thing feels sorry for him.

Fortunately, my breakfast coffee is not that bad. It's definitely above the usual brown liquid that made to taste exactly like a real coffee. And they actually brew it on a perfect temperature; just enough to release the taste but not destroys it. Still I shouldn't expect much from the Turkish chef that serve European cuisine here.

The dining hall is quite empty, with only a handful of the table here seated. Also, there's still no sign of the tan-skinned woman around. Perhaps Korra still packing her things and God knows how many did she carries. My only concern is that although last night we might apologize, I'm afraid that perhaps there was something left out last night. In the back of my mind, I fear that Korra might not accept my apology. Of course that's only me being paranoid as always. Korra surely apologize me. And although I'm still wishing that she's here ─it's quite boring sitting alone here─ I resolve to not think of anything else and enjoy this moment of peace.

Why? Because in a matter of hour, I will descend into the land I soon call home for who knows how long.

* * *

The airship descends slowly until I can see the Britain's coastline from the dining hall's window. I cannot believe how I miss seeing the ground after a three days trip with nothing but the blue sky and the Atlantic as my only view. Slowly the coastline turns into a rural area with barns and fields, looking like small dots of various sizes from up here. As we get closer to the ground, we leave the rural England to be greeted by the sight of smoke, tall buildings, cobblestone road, and carriages pulled by mechanical horse. The street is busy with men and women wearing extravagant outfit and despite the gloomy London sky, I can see that it do not stop the people here from doing their daily activity. This is truly London, the city of innovation!

* * *

We tether at Hyde Park, a huge green patch in the middle of London where airships with shape, size, and color I have never seen before. This place is the hub of airships going in and out of London, with airship pick or drop their passenger from many corner of Europe and beyond ─one cannot underestimate the size of the Britain Empire, let alone the entire Europe.

Apparently, before this place was chosen as an airship hub, there was a place some blocks away from the Trafalgar Square to land airships. But for all the brilliant mind of Victorian England, they seems quite oblivious with the tall structure sitting idly waiting for airship to fly low enough. And it did happen, some odd years ago, resulting a mess worth of thousands of pounds.

I'm just glad they did pick Hyde Park as the landing spot in London. It's already a daunting task to navigate around the airship tethering in here, and I'm glad that the Turks here know how to pilot their airship. Although the burner room is a good distance away from the dining hall, I can hear the cry of the crew shouting intangible order to steady this ship. Soon hundred of iron cables shoot out from atop all the way to our landing spot in the grass, and I confess it is quite a show watching it from the dining hall's window. I assume that the rest of the passengers agree with me; all of them gathering to watch the able-bodied crew in their goggles and gloves sliding the cable to help it lands.

No sooner than that, we are pulled down and descending slowly to the ground. I hold my suitcase and ready myself to the main door. As I walk there, I glance here and there, watching the surprising amount of diversity in the passengers. There is a slick-haired young man with a case and a book in his hands; a family of middle aged dark-skinned couple with their son bickering on when they will arrive; a portly gentleman with a luscious moustache who keep watching his brass pocket watch; and a young woman with a short brown hair…

Korra!

As soon as I see that hair, I begin my search for Korra, only to be halted by the crowds in front of me. I stuck in the middle looking like a fool as I seek that hair once again. I push, excuse, and trip myself all the way towards Korra but to my surprise, she's not there. I do a double check and look around, scanning every faces I see in hope that Korra is one of them.

A groaning sound vibrates throughout the airship. It stays like that for a few minute until it settles with a huge thud as the airship's body hit the ground. Then the door opens up, revealing the green grass of Hyde Park and the bustling activity there.

* * *

I stand there, in the middle of the park, relishing the sensation of solid ground beneath my feet. What a blessing to be back on ground, a feeling that I never felt in my three days trip above that airship. I close my eyes, just listening to the surrounding. The smell of rain still lingers in the air; cold and crisp air blows gently around me. Well I rather grow accustomed to it. Who knows how long am I going to stay here, and even though I already missed the atmosphere of New York, perhaps I will soon call this place home. Ah the life of a valet, always moving from place to place, never tied to one spot. Just when will I stop being like this and enjoy my freedom whenever I want it? I guess that as a valet my freedom is always with my master.

Still the view around me is very nice. Hundred of airships tethered around the park, some are hanging so low you might be able to touch it. People are everywhere in this park and I have to be extra careful navigating through the crowd with my hand on my suitcase and the other guarding my wallet. Hey, you can't blame me for being proactive. A rowdy night in New York will teach you _many_ things about guarding your pocket. And to not trust a clean-shaved fellow. Well… any clean-shaved fellow besides me.

Lucky for me I do not meet any clean-shaved fellow today. I approach one of the carriages that gather around the park waiting for a passenger. To my surprise, I find Korra standing near a carriage. It appears that she's struggling to lift her suitcase into the roof of the carriage. I stride quickly and just in time to hold her case before she even reach it. At first she's shocked, but after she sees whose hand holding it, she looks visibly relaxed.

"Goodness, Jack! I almost hit you!"

"Then I'm lucky that didn't happen." I say casually as I lift her case, "where is your cabbie? I thought that it was his job to haul your case."

Then a head appears from the front seat of the carriage, "you can say that again lad." he says in a thick Scottish accent, "what sort of sane man would lift such heavy cases like that?"

"Well maybe you're not _man_ enough?" Korra snap back.

The cabbie just snort at Korra's outburst, "or maybe you're not _sane_ enough."

The head disappear again to the front seat, and lucky for me I manage to hold Korra whose about to rain Hell on the cabbie. Her face is like a raging bull; red face and fiery eyes, with nostril puffing breath like a steam machine.

"Don't listen to him. A jerk like him won't deserve you attention Korra."

She still stares at the spot where the cabbie once appears with a glare that can burn a hole through it and kill the cabbie. "That might explains why he was a cabbie then. And not a good one either."

I'm sure that Korra still want to punch him. I can tell it from the death-grip Korra give to her smaller suitcase as she loads it to the small compartment behind the carriage. Seriously, her knuckles are pale white. One could wonder what those arms could do if she _did_ punch the cabbie.

I shudder as images of a bloodied Englishman appear in my head. Although one thing I agree with the cabbie: her suitcase _does_ heavy.

With all the might of a valet, I lift her suitcase while looking like I only lift a pillow. No wonder that Korra have that arms ─lifting is a good exercise after all.

"A bit too heavy no?'' ask Korra.

"Not at all, I think. Nothing is too heavy for a valet like me."

Korra raise her eyebrow, a playful smirk across her lips. "You're bad at lying you know."

"Well you just that good at detecting lie." I retort back.

"Oy! Can you stop your banter and get in the carriage? It's getting bloody cold here."

Korra send her death glare to the direction of his voice, although the cabbie is lucky enough to not see it.

But Korra makes no fuss or any other retort and heads inside the carriage.

"Oh! One more thing."

Korra stop at her tracks just before she enters her ride. I quickly search my coat's pocket for my gift, and pull Korra's hand and place it on her palm. She retracts her hand and opens her palm, looking disbelieving at me.

"But Jack… this is your necklace. Your _danitaga_ made it for you…"

"Well in that case then this is _your_ necklace." I grab the necklace from her hands and give it a final look, "This is a piece of your culture, and I want you to keep it as a reminder of who you really are." I then place the necklace around her neck, and I couldn't disagree that she looks perfect with that necklace.

"My brother dies for a reason, Korra. I'm sure he knew that we will cross our path together and left me with this necklace. So… please, continue his fight. For me… for you."

Before I know it, Korra tackles me as she envelops me in a bone-crushing hug. I can feel her tears dampening my coat and soaking it. "Do you mean it?"

"Every… single… word." I answer her, while grasping for air Korra clearly restrict. "Korra… can't… breathe…"

Then as soon as the hugs came, she releases me. "Oh my God! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! Did I hurt you? Please tell me that I didn't! Oh my God I can't believe I almost kill you. Are you mad at me? Of course he is! Why did you ask something as stupid as that-"

"Korra…" I raise my hand to stop her. "I'm not mad… at you…" I stop to catch a breath, "Just…"

I take a breath again, "A little…" I cough, "Warning… next time."

A blush form on her cheeks as she rub the back of her neck and stare the ground as if it is the most important thing in the world. "Sorry I did that. You know… the hug _and_ the rambling."

"For God's sake if you didn't hop in I'll leave you for good."

Korra is visibly cringing at the sound of the cabbie again. Then she tries to walk to the front of the carriage to hit him ─if it not for me who holds her, the cabbie is pretty much dead.

"He's got a point. You don't want the people at Cambridge waiting for you."

She ignores me while glaring at the driver seat, "I'm going to kill that cabbie."

"Make sure you do that after you reach your destination."

She laughs for a bit before looking at me, "So… this is our goodbye?"

I nod, keeping my face straight despite the fact that it is near impossible for us to meet again. "Will we meet again, Jack?"

"Unfortunately, I'm not in a position to answer your question." She looks dejected at my answer and with a long sigh, she force a smile, trying her best to hold the tear forming on her eyes. "I wish you good luck, Jack."

"The same goes to you, Korra." She then get inside the carriage, seat herself in, and close the door. I can hear the cabbie mutter 'tourist' but I can't hear the rest after he whip his mechanical horse with his magnetic whip. A spark appears at the end of his whip after it contacts the horse's rear and it move with a judder. I watch the back of the carriage growing smaller and smaller until it gone into the crowd.

* * *

I should've ask Korra before. I mean how could she hail a carriage here? I've tried to point my thumb, and yell at the carriage. I even jump straight into the path of one carriage, but to no avail. They seem to ignore me for a reason.

"That's because you're not English enough."

I look at the man ─I mean, the boy─ behind me. "And what does that mean?"

"Well every cabbie here knows who's deserve the first seat. I mean don't get me wrong but you'll never get a ride with your American attitude."

"Damn British…" I curse under my breath before giving the boy a pointed look, "What do you mean by 'my American attitude'?"

The boy just laughs it off, "That's something you need to find out, my good sir."

I grow suspicious at this boy. There's just something _off_ about him. Could he be a street urchin looking for my wallet?

"I can see that you need a ride there sir. Why don't you come with me instead of waiting here?"

I fix him a haughty gaze, not fazed by his dazzling smile.

"I'll give you a tourist discount."

What option do I have: being stuck here or follow this street urchin? I guess I don't have much choice then. "Why should I trust you?"

"You see this cap?" He then point to his cap, "How come you not trust a cabbie that wears a cabbie cap?"

I process the boy's word for a moment. "Touché."

"Then it is settled. Follow me sir." I follow him through the park into an open space next to the park where rows of mechanical carriage lined in perfect order. I wonder which one of these is this boy's carriage. After we pass a number of carriages, he stops at a ─you bet it─ a normal carriage, somehow hidden between its mechanical counterparts.

"Sooooo… I assume this is yours?"

The boy, despite looking like he hasn't reach puberty yet, climbs into the driver seat with ease. "Sure is sir. Now come in." He says with such enthusiasm. I shrug my shoulder; at least I don't need to walk. I get inside the carriage, carrying my only suitcase inside, and as the door click shut the boy whip his horse that pulls the carriage with a sudden jolt. The carriage moves up and down ─clearly not having a shock breaker─ and I'm thrown around inside. Luckily, I manage to hold my suitcase and hold it close to me. The inside of the carriage isn't as richly outfit comparing to the mechanical ones, but it's in a good level of comfortable. In fact, after a few minutes, the movement is not quite rough and I actually enjoy the sensation of the worn out plush seat.

"You are one lucky tourist sir. Richard here is the fastest horse in London!" shout the boy from a small window right in front of me.

He must be referring his horse, "How can you prove that?"

There is no answer from the boy, although eventually he does. "I can't. He is the only horse in this city."

"And why is that?"

"Her Majesty order. She declares that every horse in London to be 'drafted' to the military. Quite lucky that my dad manage to hid Richard, though until know, no one knows what the purpose behind the Queen's order."

I snort at that. Surely Queen Victoria realize that their holding in Asia and Africa are under a threat of independence, and through all means she try to protect it. I just can't believe that she will go _that_ far to do it.

"The lack of horse in London led to the invention of phaeton. You know the mechanical carriage? They quickly replace horse drawn carriage and soon became popular. Well you just saw that right?"

Right after he says that a phaeton ─I just realize that's what its name─ zoom past us with such speed that the whole carriage rocks roughly. What a beast.

"See that?"

"I _feel_ it," I say to the boy, "though that's exactly how this world works. The new always replace the old, though for better or worse, that does depend."

Silence passes us. I'm sure that the boy still pondering what my word's mean. Then surprisingly he replies with his usual enthusiasm.

"If that's the case I won't let myself replaced by them. This is all that I have from my father, and I'm going to ride this no matter what." He whips his horse harder and soon we gain speed. "But where were you going sir?"

Oh right, I haven't told the boy yet. I search my coat for that letter with my master's address. "Strand Street no. 32." I read aloud.

"And what business do you have in there?"

Wow, this kid is interrogative. "I'm a valet, and my master live there."

He musing my answer, all while driving the carriage. "What do you know about your master?"

This is getting uncomfortable. His question is vague at best, as if he is hiding something from me. "Nothing?" That came out like a question than an answer. "Please tell me that he is a _normal_ person-"

Without a warning the carriage stops. I am thrown from my seat and my face hit the wooden floor with a loud thud. A groan is also heard, though whether it's from the old carriage or me is hard to tell. My head is spinning and I rub the sore spot in my forehead, before I hear a laugh. The cabbie's laugh.

"What? Did… did you just said…" Then he laughs again. Now I'm sure that my face is contorting into a weird combination of confusion and fear. I stare the wooden board in front of me ─the only thing separating me from the cabbie─ waiting for an explanation.

"You are a lucky man, sir. I tell you that."

"W-what?"

"I'm sparing you the detail, sir. For your own sake."

The carriage move again, the boy still laughing though not as loud as earlier. I want to ask more about my master ─since he apparently know more than you, Jack. What a valet you are─ but I don't want to divide his attention and drive us to a lamppost. Though his word still rings in my ear.

* * *

One hundred and twenty six. That's the exact number of lamppost I count until we reach a different part of London. We ride in silence ─after those cryptic words from the boy, so I started to count the lamppost to pass the time. Though as I observe, I notice that we are currently in a richer part. The stock bricks are unaffected by the polluted air and so it retain its color. Café and bookstore lining next to a cobblestone-paved street, with some patrons casually lounging in the café terrace. A few turns and we arrive in the residential area. Huge mansion made of bricks, and some even have a front yard. Of course they have a high metal fence, fearing for any unwanted trespasser. Typical wealthy people I grow familiar with. Perhaps my master live in this place. The street mark does say 'Strand Street', and I'm surprised that it's quite, well… _empty_. Except for a few people walking, there isn't much activity here. For a sudden I fear that my master might be a reclusive gentleman with an eccentric personas. Or a mirror of my previous master. Great, now I'm actually regretting my rash decision to leave New York.

I still have time to turn back and catch an airship heading to New York. Would it be a good idea? Of course it is, lest I suffer from an eccentric gentleman's wrath. Just stop the carriage, pay the boy, find a place to sleep, and then I can plan to get some money. A job on a restaurant? A hotel doesn't sound like a bad place to get a job. Then when the time is right one of the guests will notice my skill and picks me as their valet.

Sounds like a plan! For the first time Jack Rusco hatch a carefully planned plan that's actually _carefully planned_. Just as I about to ask the cabbie to pull over he somehow read my mind and stop the carriage. I look outside from the carriage's window to be greeted by a red brick house with a low brick fence ─also red─ and a small yard with a cobblestone path leading to the front door. The mailbox read 'Strand Street no. 32' and a cold pit form in my gut. I'm _so_ not ready for this.

The door creaks open with the cabbie outside, a mischievous smile on his face. He then grabs my suitcase and helps me get out of the carriage.

"Here it is sir. Strand Street no. 32."

"Yeah, right… um thanks." I pull some money from my wallet as a payment for his service. The boy accepts it eagerly, smiling from ear to ear as he look at the money I give.

"You're the best sir," he say while climbing to the front of the carriage still grinning like a mad man, "you sir, are one lucky man I tell ya."

"I… is it something to do with my master?"

"How I wish to be you right now," the boy annoyingly avoids my question before he tipped his hat and waves me, "good luck!"

Then he whips his horse off, leaving me alone in front of my master's house. I recently realized that this house is actually two stories building. Another upper classmen master. How interesting.

"Well, there's no turning back now." I mutter to myself. Steeling my courage, I push open the fence door and walk to the front door. I knock on it twice, waiting for a response from inside. There are some unrecognized sounds, so faint that I can't hear it. A footstep soon growing closer and in a second the door's peephole open, revealing a pair of green eyes and the most intimidating voice rivaling my sergeant.

"Who is this?"

* * *

That is a long chapter. But hey, TWO UPDATES a day! How cool is that. I also realized that I haven't put Korra's name on the summary, and for your information the rest of the LoK cast are still out there, waiting to be found as your journey the world. So wait for the rest (I might add some character from different cartoon, but let's not get ahead of ourselves) and keep on reading.


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